


Daze

by rambunctiousEmpress (riotingGoddess)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Cats, Crying, Death, Dorks, Emotional Constipation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Requited Love, but he's still an idiot, in which tsukki thinks yama doesn't like him and vice versa, tsukishima finally confesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:32:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8152405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riotingGoddess/pseuds/rambunctiousEmpress
Summary: On January 15, 12:30 noon, Tsukishima arose like clockwork. He'd go about his life like a machine, his eyes dull and lifeless with dark bags underneath.
The feelings for Yamaguchi he'd kept bottled up had burst, and a tide dragged him underneath an open sea until he was drowning.
Tsukishima can't swim, and he isn't sure he wanted to learn how.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tartarusauce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tartarusauce/gifts).



> This is a sequel to "Haze" and it would be very confusing unless you've read that first.
> 
> Also, happy birthday to Tsukishima!
> 
> With that out of the way, here's the sequel that I promised, dedicated to my lovely bro of bros, who has been very supportive and has been there for me while writing this, providing constructive criticism when I need it, and otherwise just being a magnificent beta-reader and friend. <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing this.

On January 15 at 12:30 noon, Tsukishima rose from his bed like clockwork. Everyday, he’d wake up at the same time, looking worse than he did the day before. His hair would be twice as messy, his eyes would be even redder, and his skin would take on a pallid colour that grew paler and paler as the days went by. Slowly, he got into a sitting position and turned his phone on to check the time. His face fell when he saw the digital numbers taunting him on the screen.

_Not again._

He was tired of all this. Regardless, Tsukishima forced himself to throw his blankets away and get up from the bed. Ambling to his bathroom, he took a quick shower and put on fresh clothes, and left the house. He didn’t bother eating. He never got hungry, even if he ate nothing yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that. All he wanted was for all this to end.

Outside, the weather was pleasant, more than one would expect. The sun was shining and bathed the area in comfortable warmth, there were no clouds to obstruct the clear endless expanse of blue, blue sky. It was, for lack of a better word, a perfect day. In contrast to the calm and serene environment, Tsukishima was having a particularly bad day. On the outside, it didn’t look like Tsukishima was having an inner turmoil. He looked perfectly normal. He managed to tame his bedhead into his usual hairstyle, and he was walking down the sidewalk into a playground nearby. If one would exclude his clothing (shirt, pants, running shoes) that barely shielded him from the occasional chilly wind, nothing was out of the ordinary.

But Tsukishima felt dead inside.

After walking for a few minutes, he came across a playground. Even though the weather was perfect, and even though it was a weekend, there were no children in sight. However, there was one person, Yamaguchi, swinging on the swing set. They had been friends ever since elementary, and the freckled boy stuck to him like glue. Tsukishima had been annoyed by him at first, but he’s grown to tolerate and eventually see Yamaguchi as a cherished friend, and then, something more than that. Tsukishima had accepted his feelings for his best friend a long time ago. He just didn’t have the guts to confess, afraid that Yamaguchi would reject him and their friendship would fall apart.

As Tsukishima sat down beside Yamaguchi, the other boy didn’t react. Usually, whenever he saw Tsukishima, Yamaguchi would smile and greet him with an excited call of the nickname Yamaguchi gave him. ‘Tsukki!’ he’d say. Tsukishima never realized how much he liked the way the nickname rolled off Yamaguchi’s tongue until the other didn’t say it.

Silence fell between them.

Normally, Tsukishima would have his headphones on his head, and if not, always with him. He didn’t bother bringing his headphones today, nor did his face show the expression of perpetual irritation he usually wore. Even when he was with Yamaguchi, Tsukishima wore a mask of indifference and detachment to the world. His eyes would pierce daggers through someone if he glared, and pure cynicism graced his features as if he was eternally asking the universe why it had to spit out so many idiots, one after the other. Today, Tsukishima’s face was alarmingly devoid of expression, showing no signs of what he was feeling. He looked like a blank mask. The only indication that he wasn’t in a particularly good mood was the way his shoulders slumped and his resigned posture as he lazily kicked off the ground, swinging on the swingset lifelessly.

_Tsukishima was tired of this._

Soon enough, Yamaguchi broke the silence between them like he always did. Yamaguchi was always the first to speak when both of them were at an impasse. “Hey Tsukki,” he called. Yamaguchi’s voice had always been soft compared to other peoples (namely Hinata and Noya) but it sounded even quieter than usual. If Tsukishima wasn’t used to hearing the near inaudible lull of Yamaguchi’s gentle voice, he would have missed it. However, since he’s heard it so many agonizing times, he could hear it perfectly. “Do you hate me?”

When Yamaguchi first asked that question, it caught Tsukishima completely by surprise. Now, the blonde had been so used to the question that it merely left a dull pang in his heart. Tsukishima sighed in resignation. “No,” he answered readily. His answer sounded monotonous, but Tsukishima meant it. Knowing that Yamaguchi would continue to say something about how much Tsukishima had been avoiding him (a conversation he avoided at all costs), Tsukishima continued, interrupting Yamaguchi before the freckled boy could even start. “I don’t think I could ever hate you.” It was said with the same flat tone, but Tsukishima compensated for how cold he sounded by looking at Yamaguchi and hoping that his eyes didn’t look as dead as he felt and could somehow properly convey the sincerity of his feelings.

Tsukishima’s reward for engaging eye contact with Yamaguchi was momentary, but it was worth it. For a few seconds, Yamaguchi turned pink, his cheeks flushed as well as his ears. Every day, Tsukishima would see this blush, but everyday, it never failed to bring a small, barely noticeable smile on his otherwise inscrutable face.

From just a simple sentence, Yamaguchi beamed. Grinning happily, Yamaguchi looked up at the sky. “I’m glad,” he sighed in relief. “I feel the same way, Tsukki. I don’t think I can ever hate you.”

He’s heard it multiple times, but it always warmed his heart to know that Yamaguchi wouldn’t hate him, no matter what happened. After hearing it over and over, though, Tsukishima wanted to know the reason why Yamaguchi couldn’t hate him. “Hey, Yamaguchi,” he called, reaching a hand out to stop Yamaguchi from idly swinging. Yamaguchi looked at him quizzically. “Why won’t you ever hate me?” It was his first time asking this question.

For a moment, Yamaguchi paled, like he had just seen a ghost. A worried frown made it’s way to Tsukishima’s otherwise indifferent face. Minutes passed with no answer. “Well,” Yamaguchi finally spoke, rubbing an arm nervously and finding something very interesting with the ground. “It’s because you’re my,” another pause, “best friend.”

Ah.

“Is that so?” Tsukishima released Yamaguchi’s swing, staring straight ahead. Yamaguchi hummed in confirmation. No one would be able to tell that Tsukishima had been disappointed at the answer. Best friend. That’s all he’ll ever be to Yamaguchi after all, especially since he adamantly refused to confess that he was gay for his best friend. Tsukishima wondered why he was even surprised at the answer.

Before Tsukishima could say anything else, a meow caught their attention. In front of them was a sleek black cat, staring right at them. Yamaguchi bent down to pick it up, but Tsukishima jumped to his feet, surprising the freckled boy. “Tsukki?” Yamaguchi frowned in concern. “Is something wrong?

Instead of replying, Tsukishima grabbed Yamaguchi’s hand and lead him away from the cursed cat who simply mewed at their absence. “Tsukki, what’s going on?” Yamaguchi didn’t struggle to get out of his grip, but Tsukishima could see the skeptical look on the other’s face.

Once he was sure that the cat was out of sight, he let go of Yamaguchi and began to wrack his brain for an explanation. He couldn’t say the exact reason why he disliked that particular cat. Yamaguchi would think he was crazy. “I don’t like cats.” He lied. Yamaguchi didn’t look put out. In fact, he looked like he was storing that information away so he could remember in the future. Ever the thoughtful, selfless boy that Tsukishima had fallen ass over tea kettle for.

“Hey,” Tsukishima turned to Yamaguchi. “Let’s go back to that bistro,” Tsukishima suggested. Yamaguchi’s eyes widened, his eyebrows rising up.

“Really!?” Yamaguchi asked incredulously, eyes sparkling. “Tsukki never asks me to go anywhere.”

Yamaguchi’s words made Tsukishima’s heart clench. He ignored it. “That’s why I’m asking now.” From the corner of his eye, he could see the same black cat from earlier. To make sure Yamaguchi wouldn’t see the accursed animal, Tsukishima offered the freckled boy his hand. “Unless you don’t want to?”

Hastily, Yamaguchi shook his head and took Tsukishima’s hand almost gratefully. “I want to go!” he smiled. Tsukishima said nothing back but he did try to smile back. Quickly, he led Yamaguchi away by the hand. As they walked alongside each other, Yamaguchi’s hand slipped from Tsukishima’s. Since Yamaguchi didn’t try to hold his hand again, Tsukishima didn’t bother with offering it once more. Their walk was uneventful and they stopped on the road across from the bistro with abnormally good strawberry shortcake and disgusting floppy french fries that Yamaguchi seemed to love.

While waiting for the light to turn green, Tsukishima saw a little black cat out of the corner of his eye. It’s presence sent shivers down Tsukishima’s spine and a feeling of foreboding settled like a stone at the bottom of his heart.

_Meow._

A creaking from above made both teenagers turn their heads upwards. From below, they could see that part of the building was being renovated, metal beams and poles hanging precariously off the part of the building they were renovating. A sense of dread gripped Tsukishima’s entire being. Since they were no longer holding hands, he didn’t realize just how far Yamaguchi was, in case anything should happen.

The light turned green. Yamaguchi stepped onto the street, walking ahead of Tsukishima who was frozen in place a few feet behind him as the creaking grew louder. “Yamaguchi,” he uttered, voice too low to be heard. The creaking grew louder. “Yamaguchi!” Tsukishima was yelling now. Yamaguchi turned around too late, a look of confusion on his face that quickly morphed into fear.

“Tsukki, what’s wro-” Before Yamaguchi could even finish his sentence, the cables holding the metal beams up snapped, whipping around the air. The beams rained down on them, embedding into the concrete. Tsukishima’s hands flew up to shield his face as beams and poles shattered the concrete around him, rocks and dirt flying up and clouding his glasses. One beam in particular found a nice seat in the spot directly behind Yamaguchi. It pierced through his flesh, entering his upper abdomen and exiting out his back and embedding itself in the ground. Tsukishima could only look on with wide eyes as blood pooled on the ground and the stench of death waft in the air.

“Tsukki...” Yamaguchi managed to say his name one more time, reaching a hand out as if asking Tsukishima to take it. The blonde couldn’t move, still trying to process the fact that he was surrounded by metal and that Yamaguchi had been impaled through the abdomen. Soon enough, the light in Yamaguchi’s eyes went out.

‘Yamaguchi’s dead,’ his mind supplied for him dumbly. ‘He’s dead and there’s nothing you can do about it.’ Tsukishima barely breathed as he watched his best friend die in front of him.

Again.

The blasted cat that Tsukishima had been so occupied with proudly pranced in front of him. Tsukishima's eyes immediately trained on its sleek, black form. Its paws dipped in the pool of blood coming from Yamaguchi, staining it red. As usual, it looked at Tsukishima with ethereal eyes that seemed to glow in a frightening way. Even though it was impossible, Tsukishima felt as if the cat was grinning malevolently at him, like it enjoyed seeing him suffer over and over again.

It probably did.

“Why?” Tsukishima blurted out hastily, uncaring if some passerby would see him and think of him as lame or uncool or anything of the sort. Tsukishima stopped caring about appearances a long time ago, after countless January 15ths. Without regard for his surroundings, or the fact that he was practically screaming at a cat, Tsukishima screamed like a crazy person. “Why do you keep doing this? What the hell could you possibly want from me?”

As expected, the cat didn’t say anything. Instead, it brought up a bloody paw and licked it, as if taunting Tsukishima, saying ‘Your friend is dead and it’s all your fault.’ The glint in the cat’s eye looked menacing. Even though it was impossible, it seemed to tower over Tsukishima with its domineering presence, like a small giant waiting to devour him. Tsukishima fell to his knees, slamming his fists on the ground.

He continued to scream. “Why are you doing this? Why can’t my life go back to the way it used to be?” Tsukishima was kneeling before the cat, head down and frantically beating his hands against the street until it ached and bled. “WHY DOES YAMAGUCHI HAVE TO DIE!?” The cat gave a simple ‘meow’ as an answer, and Tsukishima continued to pound his fists to the ground, screaming and cursing everything.

When he opened his eyes which he had clenched tightly shut in his fury, he realized he was lying in soft cushions, a blanket thrown haphazardly across his bed. His phone was on beside him, proudly displaying the digits on screen. January 15th, 12:30 noon. He dropped his phone in disgust, stared at the wall, and released a long exhausted sigh.

Tsukishima wanted to cry, but he had long since run out of tears to shed.

Mechanically, he got up from his bed, did his daily routine that seemed even more dull than the day prior, and left the house. Tsukishima looked like death had draped itself on his shoulders. His eyes were sunken with dark bags underneath, and his skin was sickly. He ambled on in no hurry to get to the playground where he would meet with Yamaguchi and sat down on the empty swing. The same empty conversation occurred and Tsukishima gave the same monotonous response, dreading to see how Yamaguchi would die today.

A sigh escaped him. Yamaguchi turned to look, but didn’t say anything. The cat came out from the corner and Tsukishima didn’t even acknowledge it. He was too busy thinking about the seemingly infinite loop of January 15ths he was caught up in. In fact, today marked the fifth year of his endless days of watching his best friend die. It made a sour look cross Tsukishima’s face.

His depressing thoughts were interrupted when he heard Yamaguchi’s swing rattle as the freckled boy stood up hastily. The cat was running away, leading into the traffic that would bring Yamaguchi to his inevitable death. “Wait!” Yamaguchi called, unaware of the impending danger as he ran after the finicky cat who seemed to goad him into giving chase. As always, Tsukishima got up and followed Yamaguchi.

The cat crossed the road, Yamaguchi followed. The lights blinked an unforgiving crimson red. Tsukishima ran faster than ever.

“Yamaguchi!” Tsukishima screamed, his voice piercing the air before being overtaken by the honking truck. Yamaguchi noticed the vehicle running full force and paled.

It was at that moment when Tsukishima somehow commanded his legs to give a final burst of speed. He grabbed Yamaguchi by the arm, rather roughly, but Tsukishima wasn’t complaining and neither was Yamaguchi. Tsukishima pulled Yamaguchi back with so much force that Yamaguchi landed hard on the concrete, face-first with a gasp as the wind was knocked out of him. Tsukishima could see a cut on Yamaguchi’s cheek from his rough landing, as well as more cuts and bruises along his arms and legs. Yamaguchi, however, didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he was bleeding.

When Tsukishima pulled Yamaguchi back, he was running at top speed. The momentum couldn’t easily be stopped, and instead of Yamaguchi, the truck crashed into him instead. For someone who was about to die, Tsukishima looked gleeful. In his opinion, he had a reason to be happy. Yamaguchi would live. After five years of watching his best friend, his crush, the one person who had stuck with him all his life, die in increasingly creative and gruesome ways, Tsukishima finally had found a solution to end his worst nightmare. He would die in Yamaguchi’s stead. He felt a bit stupid for not thinking of that solution earlier.

Yamaguchi, however, was distraught. In the few seconds it took for the truck to make impact, Tsukishima could see all the emotions that Yamaguchi went through. Shock, distress, fear, and sadness. “Tsukki!” Yamaguchi had cried in alarm, tears brimming in his eyes and some slipping past, rolling down his cheeks. It slid over the cut, likely stinging, but Yamaguchi didn’t seem to give a damn.

It was sad to say goodbye to Yamaguchi, especially since Tsukishima had so many things to say. How he appreciated Yamaguchi being there for him, supporting him. How much he enjoyed his talks with Yamaguchi. How much he loved Yamaguchi’s smile, his laughter, the way his eyes crinkled at the edges as he snickered when Tsukishima made a quip about Kageyama or Hinata. How Yamaguchi always seemed to liven up his day. How Yamaguchi was the star of his life, and how Tsukishima appreciated the radiance Yamaguchi gave. He didn’t get to say any of those things, but he settled for getting the biggest thing off his chest.

Smiling, the biggest and brightest smile he has ever given since the never-ending nightmare started, he beamed at Yamaguchi who seemed to wail at the sight. Or perhaps it was because of what Tsukishima said. He didn’t know. The moment the word slipped past his lips, the truck slammed into him and turned the world a lovely shade of black.

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this. Please give a kudos and comment if you spotted something that should be changed, syntax/grammar/spelling and the like. I really appreciate reading what you have written and I hope to become a little better at writing.
> 
> Constructive criticism is highly appreciated.
> 
> The third part of this series will be uploaded on Yamaguchi's birthday, November 10. I may or may not write it in Yamaguchi's POV though.


End file.
